


Celerdan.

by hennethgalad



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Lothlórien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23364256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Legolas takes Gimli for a walk.28: "And curb your pride and your greed, or you will fall at the end of whatever path you take though your hands be full of gold"
Kudos: 6
Collections: Back to Middle-earth Month 2020: Endings and Beginnings





	Celerdan.

Gimli awoke with a start, Legolas was standing over him with a finger on his lips. He sat up, Aragorn too had awoken and was looking around the pavilion blinking, a dagger in his hand. Legolas turned to smile at him and Aragorn lay down again and fell instantly asleep. Gimli envied him that, he himself had often lain awake, staring at the sky, knowing he would curse himself the next day on the march. But they were in Lothlórien, all was well, the hobbits were fast asleep, the sun was shining through the pavilion, all was still, save for the distant sound of singing.   
It was so peaceful that Gimli had even been persuaded to lay aside his armour, and wear the heavy wine-red robe they had given him, hemmed with jewels and embroidered with the sign of Durin. He had not liked to ask where it had come from, unless it was truly a remnant of the lost friendship between their kindreds, an orphan of time.   
Gimli rose and followed Legolas out onto the lawn where the fountain sparkled in the flickering beams of sunlight, turned golden by the mallorn leaves. The place was starting to grow on him, it was the third day he had been in Lórien, and an unfamiliar peace was settling into his bones; not for the first time he wondered how he could ever bear to leave.  
"What is amiss, Legolas, why have you awoken me?"  
"I would have you come with me, for there is one whom I would have you meet."  
Gimli looked up at the fair face of the elf, but there was no expression that he could read, save perhaps a little pleading in the bright eyes.   
"Lead on, then, we have come this far together, a little further will do no harm."  
Legolas smiled his dazzling smile and Gimli laughed, as the elf strode away south towards the gate of the elven city.

But as they walked, Gimli found his mind filled with the image of the lady Galadriel, and his thoughts echoing hers. Of course he was proud, he was of the line of Durin, how not? But greedy! He gritted his teeth, thinking of the company in the hall of Celeborn, twinkling with gems and rich cloth; why, these elves liked their finery as well as any dwarf, and doubtless they too had guarded hoards, full of gold and silver. He snorted and hastened his steps to match the long stride of the elf. Of course, Legolas himself was a prince, Gimli remembered Thranduil his father, from the retaking of Erebor; now there was pride! He shook his head and smiled, these elves, so haughty and disdainful, all save the lady Galadriel, fairest of all living things, fairer than her own granddaughter! Not that Arwen was not also fair, for an elf, but she did not shine as Galadriel shone, seeming to his mind a mere shadow beside the radiance of the lady of Lórien. 

Legolas greeted the guards at the gate and led Gimli on and on in silence, down the long wooded slopes until the glint of water could be seen through the endless trees, until Gimli at last said "But whither do we go? For surely that is the Silverlode?"  
"It is not far, by the river's edge is our destination."  
Gimli sighed, it seemed he had done nothing but march for as long as he could remember, he missed the days when all he had to do was write letters and count money for his father, though he liked a fight as well as the next dwarf.  
Legolas spoke finally "This is the place."  
Gimli looked about, by the Silverlode there was a humble smithy, with a thatched roof and three sides open to the weather. He looked up into the trees and saw some flets set amidst the branches. "This? You have brought me all this way to meet a smith? Erebor has more smiths than there are elves in Lórien! I myself have been known to wield the hammer!"  
"This smith is my kin. His grandmother was sister to my grandmother, though both have sailed from the Havens long ago."  
"Your grandmother? I cannot imagine that Thranduil ever had a mother!"  
Legolas laughed "Nor I, at times! Nevertheless, here is the dwelling of Baragîl, my cousin, though I have never before met him."  
Suddenly Gimli thought he knew why Legolas had brought him, to speak of smithing with the strange elf, that there should be no uncomfortable silence between the kin. But he had no malice toward Legolas, and kept his thoughts to himself. 

They walked the last furlong, while Gimli wondered what elven custom demanded, for the smithy was empty. Would the elf shout? Or sing? But no sooner had they stepped under the thatch than a strange wood-elf appeared from behind a tree, and looked at him with astonishment "The dwarf! And are you," he turned to Legolas "Are you the son of Thranduil, my kin and cousin, Legolas?"  
Legolas stood up taller than ever "Baragîl! At last we meet! There are so few of us left!"   
"Gimli, son of Glóin? Of the line of Durin? I bid you welcome to my smithy and my home by the water. It cannot compare with the wonder of Erebor, nor the halls of Thranduil, but I would not trade it for all the mithril in Moria!"  
Gimli looked down at the rushing waters of the Silverlode, sprung from the deeps of Khazad-dûm, and smiled "My folk sing many songs of this river, I too shall miss it when I leave. But I see no blade nor helm in your smithy, are all your works swiftly taken, leaving you naught to show forth your skill?"  
Baragîl laughed and flicked at one of the silver lanterns that hung unlit from the eaves, which rang sweetly "This is my work, son of Durin! I am a lampwright!"

The climb up to the flet was wearying, Gimli was relieved to be offered a cushioned seat, but startled again at the simplicity of the house. Everything was well-made, but plain, simple and plain. He could not believe that this was the kin of the mighty Thranduil. The elves had talked all the way up in their own tongue, and he was content to merely listen, and save his breath. And while he rested, Baragîl set bread, wine and fruit before him, and bowed with a smile "Forgive such humble fare, son of Durin, but I shall prepare a fine stew, if you will stay long enough to try it."  
Legolas smiled at him, and for the first time Gimli saw Legolas as another person, rather than the remote figure from a song that he had seemed to be. In the humble home of Baragîl the lampwright, the brown and green clothes of the elf looked as humble as their surroundings, and for the first time in his life Gimli felt overdressed. 

But Baragîl was searching in a chest, and brought forth a smaller chest, and opened it. The gleam of jewels caught the eye of Gimli, and Baragîl smiled at him, then turned to Legolas "Here, I have a gift for you, this belonged to your grandmother." He lifted out a necklace of mithril and beryl, with a pendant of beryl cut as leaves. Legolas rose to his feet and held out both hands, and Baragîl hung the fine necklace on his fingers. Gimli exclaimed in admiration, it was a lovely thing, and he said so. But Legolas smiled sadly. "What is this trinket, Gimli? What is it but dry stone? What is it to me, who would give all the gems in the world for the chance to know my grandmother?"


End file.
